


Memories

by mxstyassasxin



Series: 24 for my 24th [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drinking, Gen, Leaky Cauldron, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxstyassasxin/pseuds/mxstyassasxin
Summary: Work No 8 for my 24th birthday drabbles, this one inspired by Memories by Maroon 5.Hannah Abbott is the proud new owner of The Leaky Cauldron and her first drinks served will be with her boyfriend and friend in celebration. And in rememberance of the people who couldn't be there with them.
Relationships: Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Series: 24 for my 24th [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736755
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	Memories

Hannah is ecstatic as she grips the cool, black iron key in her warm, sweating palm, holding it just an inch in front of the lock. She feels Neville’s calming presence flow through her as he presses his rough palm to her lower back, making her take a deep breath and stop bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

“Come on, Hun,” he says softly, bowing his head to her ear so that she leans into him. “You don’t have to wait. It’s already yours.”

She turns and meets his eyes, a wide grin spreading across her face.

“It is isn’t it?” she breathes, still slightly unable to believe it. She, Hannah Abbott, new owner of The Leaky Cauldron.

Hannah pushes the ancient key into the lock and the magic that had held its doors closed for the past month wraps around her hand in a warm, orange glow that feels like home.

“Mine,” she whispers as she finally pushes the doors open, only to dissolve into giggles when Neville wraps his arms around her from behind and lifts her up, nuzzling her neck as he carries her like that into the dark, dusty interior.

“You deserve it, Hun. No one will ever run a pub better.”

“You flatter me, Neville. Now put me down please so I can inspect _my_ pub.”

Once he complies, she walks away from him, running her fingertips along the tabletops and over the backs of chairs until she reaches the bar, muttering a _tergeo_ to clean off the layer of dust covering it. Underneath the bar, she finds an unopened bottle of ruby elf wine and pulls out two glasses, setting them in front of Neville for him to clean while she uncorks the bottle. She pours out two generous amounts and Neville lifts his glass to her across the bar.

“No one makes me prouder than you do, Hannah. You work so hard at everything you set your mind to, and your confidence in yourself and your love for everyone around you is inspiring to say the least,” his smile turns to a smirk and he gets a sparkle in his eyes, “and ridiculously hot at the most.”

“Oh, stop it you,” Hannah blushes, smacking the back of his hand lightly where it rests on the bar.

Neville chuckles and raises his glass further.

“To the best landlady, I know!” He clinks their glasses together and they take a big swallow of the rich wine.

“Better than Madam Rosmerta?” Hannah smirks at her boyfriend.

“Much better than Rosmerta. She doesn’t let me do this.” He leans across the bar and pulls her into a deep, searing kiss, tangling his fingers into her loose hair and making her moan with the way his fingers scratch at her scalp.

“Ugh, seriously guys? I know not to apparate into your flat, but I thought the pub would be safe!”

Hannah jolts away from the kiss she’d been so lost in that she hadn’t even heard the pop of apparition, blinking her way back into her surroundings. Neville was already striding across the open space, chuckling, to pull one of their best mates into his signature bear hug.

“Sorry, Dean,” Hannah called from the bar. “I’ll keep it professional from now on.”

“Not too professional that we can’t all get smashed on this celebratory bottle of 25-year Ogden’s I hope,” Dean calls back, holding up a dark bottle wrapped in a large red bow.

Hannah laughs as she pulls one more glass up from underneath the bar before downing the rest of her wine so they could start on the firewhisky.

“Come on then. Will Seamus be joining us?”

“Nah, he couldn’t get away from training. Sends his love though and said,” Dean clears his throat and adopts an Irish accent, “’Don’t come home ‘til you lot have celebrated properly. She deserves to enjoy this before she has to put up with slimy, drunk gits.’” The three of them promptly burst out laughing, Hannah having to wipe tears from her eyes and clutch her stomach as she calms down.

When she was taking deep, even breaths again, Dean was already pouring the golden liquid into their glasses. She takes hers from him with a clink against the glass, drawing her attention to her hand and making her stomach sink slightly. Distractedly, she twists the silver ring, inlaid with garnets, around her right ring finger, remembering how her mum used to do the same when it sat on her left hand.

“I wish my mum could see this,” Dean and Neville’s conversation breaks off and her boyfriend meets her eyes. “I wish she could have seen us now, happy, and come to buy the pub with me. She’d have loved cleaning this spot up.”

Hannah takes a large gulp of burning firewhisky then holds her glass aloft, the other two following suit. “To Mum,” she says. “I wish you were still with me. I wish there were a lot of people still here.” She stares down into the liquid swirling around her glass until Dean speaks up.

“To all those we lost,” he says, lifting his glass to his lips again.

“To Fred,” Neville joins in, echoed by Hannah and Dean, the three of them feeling the warmth of more firewhisky slip down their throats.

Hannah lifts her glass again.

“To Cedric,” she says, hearing the boys each repeat his name and then drinking to her old housemate who had always treated her like a little sister, talking her through transfiguration homework whenever she got stuck, which had been often because there was never enough theory for her to connect with.

Dean toasts a younger Gryffindor next, a muggle-born boy called Colin who should never have been at the Battle in the first place. Then they drink to Lavender who had always been so loud and full of life that her friendships had spread through all four houses.

Neville filled their glasses up again then held his aloft, beginning to talk about the Department of Mysteries, a story he had only told her in the vaguest of terms before.

“We went to save you, but you ended up saving us. To Sirius.” Hannah and Dean drink with him, stopping Neville from drinking too much, too quickly, with a squeeze to his hand and an arm around his shoulders.

Dean claps Neville on the shoulder then raises his glass again to make his own personal toast. “To Ted. I can’t thank you enough for looking out for me. Miss you, bud.”

“To Ted,” Neville chorused. “And Tonks too,” he continues. “Dora that is. And Professor Lupin. Your son is absolutely brilliant and you’d both be so proud of him. A right little Hufflepuff though, sorry Remus.”

“Professor Lupin,” Hannah joins in. “The best defence professor.”

“Professor Lupin and Tonks,” Dean calls, prompting them to drink.

“I think they’d all be proud of us,” Neville says after a moment. “To see what the world is like now.”

“Yeah,” Hannah had to agree. “They would.”

With another glass, the three of them started trading stories of those they had lost during the war, laughing with the good memories they recalled, filling Hannah’s pub with the warmth she’d intended.

She smiled, knowing that this was what The Leaky Cauldron would be. A space for laughter and memories shared with friends.


End file.
